


Traipsing Troubles

by barbex



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26737363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbex/pseuds/barbex
Summary: The brother of Inquisitor Trevelyan has fallen for Lace Harding and wants to treat her to a nice date. Which proves to be difficult.
Relationships: Lace Harding/OC, Lace Harding/Trevelyan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Traipsing Troubles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LauraEMoriarty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraEMoriarty/gifts).



> Happy Day, Lovely!  
> Have a little romantic date with Cathal and Lace. Thank you for letting me borrow your OC.

* * *

"I'm taking Lace for a romantic walk in the fields outside of Skyhold and I had a picnic at this little stream prepared — "

"Do you think she likes that?"

Cathal shuts his mouth with a snap and stares at Niamh. It takes him a bit to trace back the steps of how they got to this part of the conversation, he has been running his mouth for a while. "Why shouldn't she?"

"Isn't that what she does almost every day anyway? Traipsing through the land, eating at little streams?"

"It's gonna be romantic." Cathal crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at his sister.

Niamh shrugs, throwing a look over her shoulder as she leaves. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Cathal doesn't have time to worry, Ferlington asking for the last orders to start off on the trail that he wants to take with Lace in a little bit. He sends the caravan off and then sets out to find the lady of his heart. Which proves to be difficult because she's not at her usual post near the stables, taking care of packs and horses and also not in the tavern. 

He wanders the grounds for almost an hour, before he strays near the kitchen and hears Lace's familiar laugh. His heart beats a little faster at the sound and he hurries into the warm kitchen, filled with the smell of fresh bread. Lace sits on the table, chatting with one of the cooks as she takes bites from a steaming piece of bread. Cathal thinks about the delicious pastries he had Ferlington pack up and his mouth waters.

"Lace, there ye are," he calls out.

"Yes?" She turns to him, a smile lighting up her face.

"I've been looking for ye." He takes her hand, trying to prevent her from eating the last piece of bread but of course, there's no way he's getting between Lace and a piece of fresh bread. 

"Whddayawnt?" she mumbles, as she stuffs the rest in her mouth.

"I want to ask ye to accompany me."

"Accmpny where?" Lace is still chewing, slowly.

"It's a surprise."

Lace lays her head to the side, eyeing him critically and nods at last, jumping down from the table. She wears her usual leather armor with a metal breastplate and sturdy boots, that give of a solid sound as she lands. She looks wonderful, with her breastplate gleaming and her waist tied in tough leather. It has been a long time that Cathal looked at ladies and those never wore much anyway but he loves looking at Lace in her armor. 

Skyhold isn't quite the place for silken dresses, nobody here wears evening gowns and slippers, but Cathal did pride himself on his fashion sense once. For this special afternoon, he picked one of his better leather trousers and elegant boots, combining them with a flowing white shirt and an embroidered jacket. That kind of fashion is probably hopelessly outdated by now, but this isn't Val Royeaux, it should be fine for Skyhold.

"You look very nice today," Lace says, looking him up and down. "Should I change?"

"No, no need," Cathal hurries to assure. "You look wonderful."

"Thank you." Lace bows her head and then links her hand into his elbow. "Where are we going then?"

"This way, my lady." Cathal leads her out of the building and towards the main gate. The sun has finally come out and as they walk down the path leading away from the castle, the sun plays on Lace's red hair like dancing fire. He can't take his eyes off her hair, he wants to undo her braids and comb through the red locks with his fingers.

Unfortunately, the sun did not have time to dry the path further down and the more they move away from the well trodden path, the muddier the ground becomes. Cathal's beautiful boots quickly soak through and they start to make squeaking sounds with every step. 

Lace looks to his boots and the corner of her lips twitches. "You boots seem unfit for this area, are you sure we're on the right path?"

"Yes, no worries, just a wee bit further." He had the place scouted out with Ferlington earlier but they had been on horses. Surely, after the next copse of trees, he should find his men.

The next copse of trees proves to be a maze of twigs and thorns that seem to have waited for the rich embroidery on his jacket just to stick to it and rip out the stitches. Lace tries to hold the worst away from him but at her height, she can't do much to save his jacket or his pride. 

The path ends abruptly on a badly maintained or abandoned field of wheat and Cathal has to admit that he's lost. His feet hurt, the wetness from his boots has crawled up to his trousers, making them stick to his legs like cold fever wraps. With the sun going down, it's starting to get cold and he shivers in his fancy but thin jacket.

"Are we lost?" Lace asks.

"Nay, I'm sure I — "

"Cathal," Lace repeats, putting a sigh somewhere into his name that has him crumble. "Do you know where we are?"

He sighs and hangs his head. "I have no idea. I've been scourin’ with Ferlington and sent him ahead and I thought I knew where I would meet him."

"Let's go back to the main road and go from there." Lace takes his hand and leads him around the trees and over the hillside. 

"I'm sorry," Cathal says as he walks by her side. "My sister said it's a bad idea, since ye do this anyway, walking around the land, and it's nothing special."

"Well, yes," Lace says, hopping over a small stream. "But I do like walking with you."

Cathal scratches his head. "I should have just have Ferlington prepare us a table in Skyhold and the we'd get dressed all fancy— "

Lace suddenly stops and scowls at him. "You know, Cathal Trevelyan, you could also just ask."

"What?"

Lace shakes her head and takes his hand to pull him along after her. "You could ask. Ask what I like, what kind of things I like to do, what I've always wanted to do. Most of the time, surprises are not as great as one wants them to be, they're often disappointing." 

She smiles up to him and his heart does a silly hop in his chest. 

"You could ask," she continues, "and then we plan it together. That'll be fun."

Cathal's chest expands in relief. "Ye right, of course ye right." He raises her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. He smiles at her. "I should know this by now."

A blush colours Lace's cheeks. "Yes. You're surrounded by smart women, Cathal, don't you know that?"

Cathal leans forward, angling his face to kiss Lace but she suddenly turns her face away and looks over his shoulder. "There's someone waving at us over there."

Catching himself so that he doesn't fall forward, Cathal turns and squints towards a line of trees. "That's Ferlington. By Andraste's bosom, you found the place wi'out even knowing where it was."

Lace grins at him, her cheeks still a lovely shade of red and leads them through a field of crops to the treeline. 

"I'm glad you found us at last, your lordship," Ferlington says as they arrive. He looks Cathal up and down, raising an eyebrow at the state of his boots, trousers and jacket.

"Yae have to thank Lady Harding for that, I got us lost like a green city boy."

Ferlington bows to Lace, who has turned a deep shade of red. "Lady Harding, I'm relieved to see that you're at least dressed for the occasion, I hope his lordship didn't inconvenience you much."

Lace stares at Ferlington, opening and closing her mouth several times. "No, I... he didn't." She clears her throat and says more clearly, "He didn't inconvenience me."

"Yae I did," Cathal says and sits down on a chair that Ferlington had brought up here who knows how. "I personified inconveniencing like a true knobhead."

If Ferlington smiles at that remark, he will most probably deny it but Lace visibly relaxes when she catches his expression. She looks around and points at the small table and second chair in the moss. "This is very nice but..." she points at the sky, where the sun is painting the horizon red.

"It's getting dark soon and his lordship shouldn't sit around in his wet boots much longer," Ferlington says and resolutely clears the table of boxes and plates, placing everything in various bags on the pack horse. At last, he folds the legs of the table inwards and ties it to the back of the horse. 

Lace picks up the chair and finds the latching mechanism to fold it and hands it to Ferlingotn. Then, both turn to Cathal with a pointed glance. 

"A'right," Cathal grumbles, gets up from the chair and fiddles with the latch until the chair takes pity on him and collapses in on itself. 

Ferlington leads a horse to Lace and folds his hands for her to step in to help her up. The horse has no saddle because Cathal wanted both of them to sit on one horse, another idea that looked good in theory. In reality it turns out to be an annoying struggle for him to find a comfortable way of sitting behind Lace and the back of her armor pressing into his chest. 

At least the journey back to the castle is quick and the smell of Lace's hair under his nose compensates for a lot. Actually, his hands on her leatherbound waist also add something very enjoyable to the journey. 

At the stables, he slides slowly off the horse, wincing when his weight settles on his ice cold feet. He helps Lace off the horse, letting his hand linger on her waist a bit longer than necessary. She looks up to him with a smile and leans into his side. 

Ferlington clears his throat politely and points to the pack horse. "Should I set up the table here, your lordship?"

"Well — "

"No," Lace interrupts. "Enough of this. Bring everything up to his rooms in the castle. Cathal needs to get out of those wet boots and probably thaw his feet in a bucket of warm water."

Ferlington bows his head to her, a smile playing on his lips. "I couldn't agree more, your ladyship." 

"And you have to stop calling me that," Lace says. "I'm no lady."

"I'm inclined to disagree," Ferlington says and leads the pack horse away without waiting for a reaction. 

By the time Cathal has made it up the stairs with Lace's help, Ferlington has already started the fire, somehow produced a bowl of warm water for Cathal's feet and set up the table with the food near the fire. The room is bathed in warm candle light and two silken robes, one long and one short, are laid out on the bed. 

"Did he really..." Lace looks at the robes in disbelief. 

"Did he really prepare for you to undress? Aye, he did."

Lace laughs out. "What an efficient man." She begins to remove her armor, taking off gloves and gauntlets and pulls on the buckles that hold the plate. 

"Cannae help ye with that?" Cathal asks quietly. With the breast and back plate gone, the leather armor fits her like a glove, accentuating her waist most deliciously. 

"No, you're supposed to warm your feet." 

"Aye." Cathal takes off his boots and socks and his wet trousers, letting them fall on a pile next to him. He sits down and dutifully sets his feet into the bowl of water, hissing as pins and needles seem to stab his feet. When the pain lessens, he looks up to see Lace standing in front of him, only wearing the silken red robe, tied around her waist with a bow. 

He stares, the pain and coldness forgotten, words failing him. She has undone her hair and it falls in red waves over one shoulder. The fire bathes her in golden light, showing the silhouette of her beautiful curves.

"Maker's breath," he finally mumbles, his mouth dry as a desert. "Lace..."

She smiles at him with her head laid to the side. "Yes?"

"Ye said I should ask ye, dinna ye?"

"Yes, that's what I said." She sets her hands into her sides and frowns. "What question do you want to ask?"

"Can I kiss ye?"

She smiles and it lights up her whole face. "Definitely." She saunters over to him, pushing the bowl of water to the side with her foot and shoves between his open legs. 

When she places her hands on his chest, Cathal is suddenly very aware that he's only wearing the flowing shirt and that nothing is there to contain his excited manhood. Lace leans forward and catches his lips with hers, pressing a soft kiss on them. Then she leans back, smirking at him.

"Yes, I think I like that." She grins and rushes forward again, throwing her arms around his neck and kisses him like she wants to devour him. Her tongue slides against his, warm and demanding, and he kisses her back with the same kind of hunger.

His body opens to her as if it waited for her, tingling warmth flooding all over him and before he can even think, he has pulled at the bow of her robe and his fingers glide over her gloriously soft skin. Her lips and tongue leave his and travel along his jaw, causing him to moan and pull her flush between his legs. 

She gasps, leaning back to look at him. Her soft lips are bright red and swollen and her hair frames her face like living fire. His desire for her presses hard against the junction of her legs and she smiles as she grinds against it. 

"Lace," Cathal growls, his voice somewhere deep in his throat, "I have another question."

"Another?" She bends her knees to press her wetness against his hardness, grinning as he throws his head back. 

"Aye, you glorious woman. I wannae ask, can I fuck ye?"

Lace laughs out loud and steps back, only to climb in his lap and straddle him. Her wet core presses against him and she slowly undulates her hips. "Aye, your lordship. I must insist."

"My glorious lady," Cathal says with a smile. "Yae wish is my command."


End file.
